


Misery: A Hydra Husbands Hitchhiker!AU

by LeviathanHomeCooking



Category: Desolate 2018, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hitchhiking, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanHomeCooking/pseuds/LeviathanHomeCooking
Summary: Brock is trying to hitchhike from New York to California, but gets dumped in the middle of nowhere with no certainty of when he’d be able to catch another ride. Surrounded by miles of empty land and dangerous locals, Brock finds salvation from a crabby local farmer: Jack Rollins.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Misery: A Hydra Husbands Hitchhiker!AU

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the movie Desolate (2018), and the various truck stops I visited in the eerie early morning during my road-trip down the east coast back in 2019.  
> Originally posted on[ Tumblr](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com/post/188374504143).  
> [ My Tumblr (LeviathanHomeCooking) ](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com)

Jack knows he’s never seen that man before, strangers are a rarity in this part of the state. This gas station is the closest to any major highway but the man doesn’t look anything like a tourist.

He casually leans against the wall of the convenience store in a way that rides up his shirt to reveal the tight, olive skin of his stomach. His jeans ride low, fit snug, and look like they’ve seen better days.

When Jack pulled up to the pump, the man set his predatory eyes upon him but didn’t move, just continued to smoke his cigarette all casual-like as if he wasn’t trying to exude sex appeal with every plume of smoke. Jack avoids his gaze but can still feel it on him.

When Jack stalks up to the store to pay for his gas, he gets a better look. Upon closer inspection the guy appears to be in his mid 30s to early 40s, more mature than the proud, youthful quiff his sleek black hair suggests. Jack maintains his distance and doesn’t make eye contact because the man is just as likely to shiv him as suck his cock for a bottle of liquor.

When Jack leaves the store, the man finally says, “Hey.” He says in a gravelly voice, but Jack knows better than to acknowledge his presence so just continues walking away. The stranger is undeterred though, probably used to such reactions, he tries again louder, “Hey! Seventy-five for a BJ!”

Jack opens the door to his truck but finally makes eye contact with the stranger. The man leers back, feral and full of teeth. 

“Three-hundred to fuck my ass.” He says, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. 

The crassness does nothing to stir Jack’s libido, it only annoys him. “That’s expensive for truck stop trash.” Jack replies.

The man laughs, “It’s a great ass.” He makes his point by slapping it.

Jack isn’t amused. “I wouldn’t fuck your ass to cure cancer.”

The stranger laughs at that too. “How about a ride?” He asks.

“To where?” Jack replies.

“San Jose, California. Or as close as you’re willin’ to take me.”

“You plannin’ to hitch?”

“Yep.”

People around here aren’t too friendly, chances of him catching a ride with any local is close to none, and it could be weeks before another stranger passes through. The stranger reeks of trouble, which Jack has worked hard to stay out of, but he also knows the predators that lie in wait around these parts. Drought killed all the industry, wiped away all the food, people get desperate, people get violent.

And maybe that makes Jack more sympathetic than he should be. “I could give you a lift, but not for a day or two.”

“Got all the time in the world.” The stranger agrees, not like he has many options

“Got a place to stay t’night?” Jack asks. “Hmm that pile’a dirt over there is lookin’ pretty comfy.” This stranger just seems to think himself so funny. “There’s a motel up the road, I can drop you off.” Jack suggests.

“Sounds like a plan.” The man smirks. He puts out the last embers of his cigarette on the sole of his boot and swaggers towards Jack. Jack climbs into his truck and unlocks the passenger side for the man to slide into. His only belonging seems to be a frayed canvas bag that he seats next to him, strategically away from Jack.

The stranger makes a show of raking his eyes over Jack’s body from head to toe, licks his lips before directing those big hazel eyes to Jack’s face. He reaches out his hand.

“Brock.” He says.

Jack hesitantly shakes it. “Jack.”

Brock smiles, and this close Jack can see the creases that form at his eyes. “Jack.” He says out loud, as if to remember. “Thanks for the ride, Jack.” His voice is low and sultry and Jack has to admit he’s not half-bad looking. Jack doesn’t say anything, just nods his head.

The ride to the motel is only a few minutes, but with Brock still staring at him like that it feels like a lifetime. When Jack parks the truck to let him out, Brock looks at the flashing neon “vacancy” sign then back to Jack and says, “I don’t have any money.”

“O’ course you don’t…” Jack sighs, leaning on the wheel. There’s no point in speculating whether or not it’s true, Brock has a goal in mind that he’s not willing to give up easily. Now Jack is feeling kind of stupid for falling for it, he should know better, but he has a weak spot for charity cases. Brock is back to smiling and looking at him from beneath his lashes. 

Jack feels a warm hand teasing the hair on his arm. “Bet it’s real boring ‘round here…” Brock starts, smoothing his warm hand down Jack’s exposed forearm and shuffling closer to blanket his side in heat, “…c’mon what’s a lil’ fun?” 

When Jack looks at Brock, the man’s eyes are heavy with want and just a spark of teasing. The stranger has the prettiest lips Jack has ever seen on a man, and his mind is conjuring up all sorts of scenarios where that pretty mouth could be put to good use. It’s been so long since Jack has been with anybody, to be this close is torture. And, truthfully, the thought another night of going home to his dingy house and drinking until he passes out alone on his couch makes his stomach churn.

Jack is wrenched back from his thoughts by fingers scratching at his beard. Brock is looking at him licking his lips with what has to be feigned nervousness like Jack would reject him. Jack likes to think himself a stronger man than the one currently crumbling under the sweet touches of a whore, but clearly not.

He squeezes the shorter man’s thigh closer and asks at the behest of his better judgement, “Three-hundred was it?” Brock absolutely preens at finally catching his prey.

**Author's Note:**

> Check Out[ My Tumblr (LeviathanHomeCooking) ](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com)


End file.
